


Broken Dicks and Bloody Noses

by nerakrose



Series: datenights in the stitching ward [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Art Student Steve, Bisexuality, Canon Disabled Character, Cute, Fluff, Just Get Married Already, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Minor Injuries, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Illness, Serious Injuries, Tattoo Artist Steve, as in steve never gets the serum because there is no serum, hard of hearing clint, hard of hearing steve, mechanic Bucky, past bucky/nat, past clint/bobbi - Freeform, steve is a lil hipster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/pseuds/nerakrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky meet in the ER, and then keep meeting in the ER because they are both knuckleheads who keep getting beaten up by other people.</p><p>Some of the alternative titles to this fic are "DATENIGHT ON THE STITCHING WARD" "A ROOM FOR THIS EMERGENCY" "A HOSPITAL BED FOR TWO" and "THE WAITING ROOM OF LOVE", all courtesy of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/palavapeite/pseuds/palavapeite">palavapeite</a>. Yes, in all caps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Dicks and Bloody Noses

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [palavapeite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/palavapeite/pseuds/palavapeite) and [mrs_jack_turner](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_jack_turner/pseuds/mrs_jack_turner), who both encouraged this fic. By the way, they are also both made of awesome. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> eta: for those into that sort of thing, there's an unofficial playlist for this series [here](http://8tracks.com/nerakrose/imaginary-heroes).

"I don't _need_ to go to the ER, Nat," Bucky whined, but it came out garbled and bloody. He tried to suck the blood back into his nose, but it wouldn't really cooperate with him. 

"Tough luck," Natasha said. "I'm dumping your ass here, and you can't come back until you've got that fixed." 

"Nothing's wrong with my nose," Bucky tried, but he knew it was a lie. He couldn't breathe through it and it was almost definitely broken. Nothing he couldn't set by himself at ho-

"Last time you tried to set your nose yourself you broke it again in a different spot," Natasha pointed out and okay, he was beat.

"Fine," he grumbled, and let her push him out of the cab. 

He stumbled to his feet and made towards the doors, Natasha looking after him sternly.

"I mean it!" she said and Bucky waved, yeah yeah. He was going. "And by the way, James. Next time you decide to take on _my_ battles, _I_ will break your nose." She slammed the door closed and the cab drove off.

Bucky sighed and went inside, trying to look properly forlorn and pathetic and not like somebody who had _started_ a fight. Maybe if he concentrated he could look like somebody who'd gotten mugged. The nurse didn't ask. 

The only empty seat (it was Friday night, _of course_ the ER would be busy) was next to a scrawny looking kid with an equally bloody nose, black eyes and banged up knuckles. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. The knuckles were tattooed, and Bucky could see a few more tattoos poking out from beneath his shirt sleeves.

"So what'd you do?" Bucky asked, dropping into the seat. He looked over. The guy's eyes were unfocused and he was staring at the ceiling - probably in an attempt to stop bleeding out of his nose. "Dude," Bucky said, nudging him. 

"Huh? Sorry," the guy said, looking over. His voice was even more nasal and stuffy than Bucky's own, which had to account for something. "I didn't catch that. Left my hearing aids with Sam before coming here." He gestured at his ears and shrugged, then went on to explain: "Got a hard hit on the ear and the plug shattered inside my ear, and I think it may be bleeding, so."

"Oh. I've a mate who does that sorta thing too. He looks dumber than you though, so not to worry," Bucky said. "What about the other one?"

"The other guy or the other hearing aid?" the guy raised an eyebrow, and then the corner of his mouth. 

Bucky grinned. "Both?"

"I left the other hearing aid behind because I don't like it when I've not got both in," he explained. "It feels weird and noisy, because it's all just on one side, you know? It's hard to explain." He shrugged. 

"It makes sense," Bucky said, though he really had no idea what he was talking about and then he cocked his eyebrow. "So, the other guy?"

"You don't have to look at me like that," the guy said. "Pot, kettle."

Bucky laughed, which was a _bad_ move, because his face hurt and his nose started bleeding again. "Oh, fuck," he moaned, groping in his pockets for that tissue he'd used earlier. It was all bloody and crumpled up, but it'd have to do. He pressed it against his nose and leaned his head back. 

"The other guy got what he deserved," the guy said, slightly too cheerful for it to be entirely proper.

"Did you start the fight tho?" Bucky asked through the tissue.

"I have no idea what you're saying," the guy said, and he sounded somewhat amused. Exasperated maybe.

Bucky turned his head a little, so that he could see him. He gestured. "Did you start the fight?"

The guy only frowned. "What?"

"Hang on," Bucky mumbled and turned his head back. He'd had a headache for a while already, but he could feel it really begin to pound behind his eyes now. He switched hands on the tissue and fished his phone out of his pocket, making a sad noise when he saw the cracked screen. It would have to do.

DID U START THE FIGHT?? he typed and then tilted the screen so the guy could see. He'd done this enough times with Clint that it was almost second nature. The fool couldn't read lips to save his life.

"Oh. No - well, I guess. If you have to be technical about it," the guy answered.

Bucky snorted, which was also a terrible move. 

"I meant," the guy continued, "those guys had it coming, wouldn't let the woman alone."

NICE, Bucky typed. Then: SWHY IM HERE 2

The guy grinned and raised his fist. It took Bucky a second to realise what was up, and then he awkwardly fistbumped him back, phone in hand. 

WHATS UR NAME??

"Steve. Steve Rogers." Steve smiled tiredly. "Nice to meet you, whatever _your_ name is."

BUCKY, Bucky typed. This not talking thing was great. So much nicer on his face. U COOL STEVE.

"Hah. Thanks." Steve smiled. "You got a last name to go with that?" 

BARNES

"Well, Barnes, you get into fights like this on the regular?" Steve asked. He sank lower into the chair, looking exhausted as all hell, and Bucky figured he'd been waiting at the ER for a while already.

Bucky was about to type something cool and swanky back, when a nurse called out Steve's name. Bucky closed the text window down, but Steve didn't react to the nurse. When she called a second time, Bucky nudged him. U UP PAL he typed quickly and gestured towards the nurse.

"Oh - thanks!" Steve got to his feet. "See you around." Then he disappeared down the hall with the nurse and Bucky was left alone with his broken nose and pounding headache. 

Steve didn't come back before Bucky himself was called in, and Bucky didn't see him again.

***

It was two weeks before Bucky landed himself back in the ER. His nose wasn't healed yet, but the swelling had gone down, thankfully. His black eyes had faded too, leaving only a faint trace of yellow mottling behind. He was also not the one in need of medical attention this time.

"Why didn't you wait for me? Dickhead," Bucky said, pushing Clint ahead in front of him. "You've only got yourself to blame for this."

"It was a bookshelf!" Clint protested. "I can handle building a bookshelf!"

Bucky gave him a look. "Evidently not."

"Shut up." Clint flopped onto a chair and Bucky went to talk to the nurse on his behalf, while Clint cradled his hand close to his chest. It was bandaged and bloody, and a long grey nail stuck out on both sides.

"How many times have you managed to nail yourself now?" Bucky asked, appropriating the seat next to him. "This has got to be your, what, third?"

"Shut up," Clint grumbled. "You could've just let me take the nail out myself -"

"Hell no," Bucky protested. "You are getting a tetanus shot. And x-rays. And shit."

Clint didn't say anything, just leaned back and closed his eyes. He was clenching his jaw, which meant he was really in a lot of pain but refusing to show it. Moron.

"Want some coffee?" Bucky offered. "On me. Because you're a moron."

"Can I have it with a couple more insults on the side?" 

Bucky flicked his head but got up anyway and went looking for the coffee machine - it wasn't in its usual place, so either they'd moved it or removed it altogether. The possibility that there was no coffee was a little too much for Bucky to bear, so he started looking through all open doors he could find.

"Over here," somebody said behind him, and Bucky turned round to find the guy he'd chatted to two weeks prior. Steve. "The coffee machine, I mean. They moved it, it's down that hallway now."

"Thanks, man. Steve, right?" Bucky asked. 

"No problem." Steve smiled. "I'm impressed you remember my name. You looked pretty out of it last I saw you."

Bucky shrugged. "It's what a broken nose does to you." He peered at Steve, who was now wearing glasses and nothing whatsoever on his nose. "You got off easy with yours?"

"Ah, yes." Steve rubbed his neck. "It wasn't broken, just. Uh. Bruised. My cheekbone got a fracture, though. Nothing to worry about, no surgery or anything. Just rest."

"Not bad," Bucky said. "So what'd you do this time?"

"Huh?"

"You're in the ER. What'd you do?" Bucky smiled, amused. 

"Oh. Nothing as exciting as last time. I hurt myself on the stove." He showed him his arm, which was bandaged. "Just a burn. Also not serious, but I thought I'd rather check it out than not. It might fuck up my tattoo, though." He made a face. "I hope not." He paused, eyeing Bucky. "You look pretty wholesome, though. Discounting your nose. Gotta say, that's not a bad look on you."

"Shut up. I'm here with a friend. He put a nail through his hand trying to build a bookshelf."

Steve winced. 

"I know, that was my reaction too. And it's the third time he's done it too." Bucky shook his head. "Hey, come sit with us? I'm getting us coffee."

"Oh, sorry - I'm actually, I'm done here." He showed him the bandaged arm again. "Just wanted a coffee before I left."

"Oh, okay. I'll see you around then, I guess." Bucky gave him another smile, then looked round. "Down there, you said?"

"Yup. See you around, Bucky."

Steve left and Bucky found the coffee machine, and procured two black coffees from it. 

"What took you so long?" Clint asked as he accepted his coffee. 

"Just ran into someone I know," Bucky said. "We hung out last time I was here. Comparing notes on beating up people, that sort of thing."

"And getting beat up, I suppose," Clint said. 

Bucky punched him in the shoulder. 

"I'm telling Nat," Clint said.

"I'm not scared of Nat."

"You are."

"Am not."

"You _are_ ," Clint singsonged.

"I share a flat with her!"

"Scared of her!"

"I've had my tongue in her vagina! _I am not scared of her_!" Bucky exclaimed, arms crossed over his chest.

Clint stared. So did half of the ER. 

"This is your fault too," Bucky said to Clint, and drank half his coffee in one go, ignoring everyone in the room.

"So, was it Nat's fanged vagina that turned you away from women, or -"

"Nat's vagina doesn't have fangs. You should know, you see it on a daily basis, more or less." He glared at Clint. "Also I have not been turned away from women."

"No, you've only been seeing guys ever since you and Nat broke up, so forgive me for thinking you're strictly into dick these days," Clint said conversationally. He sipped his coffee. "Next time, bring me a bigger one."

"I went out with a girl last week," Bucky pointed out.

"Doesn't count."

Bucky spluttered. "It counts!"

"You only saw her once," Clint said. "It doesn't count unless it's more than once."

"That's not a rule!"

"It is in my book."

"Well, your book sucks. I'm taking your coffee away from you."

"You probably shouldn't have asked her out while looking like a mug victim," Clint said, cradling his coffee close. "She might've given you a second chance if your face hadn't been all... potato-y."

"I will leave you here alone," Bucky threatened. "Maybe I'll twist that nail in your hand before I leave."

Clint narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me."

***

Three months passed before Bucky saw the inside of the ER again, and this time he was being dragged there only half conscious.

"Lemme go," Bucky slurred, trying to fight against Clint's grip. "I've someone to punch!"

"No you don't," Clint said. "Nat, help me out here - thanks." 

"Idunwanna go home," Bucky then tried, oblivious to the fact that they weren't actually going home.

"Good thing we aren't going home then," Natasha said. "Welcome to the ER, James. I hear you like it here."

"Huh?" Bucky blinked at the bright lights. 

"Sit," she commanded and Bucky sat on a vacant chair next to someone blond and familiar. 

"No coffee for you, traitor," Bucky said to him. "Nat, Clint is a traitor."

"I'm not sure how exactly I'm supposed to have committed treason," the familiar blond person said, and Bucky realised it wasn't Clint but _Steve_. How silly of him to mix them up. Clint didn't have glasses. Or tattoos. "But I'm concerned about the lack of coffee."

"Steve!" Bucky grinned, leaning over and losing his balance, ending up sprawled half over Steve.

"James -" Nat pulled at him, trying to get him off Steve, which was bad, no Steve smelled nice. "I'm so sorry about him, he's drunk," she said. "And he hit his head."

"It's okay," Steve said, and with their combined efforts they got Bucky back to sitting up in his own chair. 

Clint chose that moment to come back from the desk. "Waiting time is about two hours," he informed them. "We're to keep him awake until they can see him."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Clint, but he kept falling out of focus. Natasha sat on his other side, arm over his shoulders to try to keep him steady.

"What happened to him?" Steve asked. Bucky thought maybe he looked concerned.

"You've got a new tattoo," Bucky said, zooming in on Steve's neck. He reached up to touch. "Wasn't there before."

Natasha sighed. "He got into a bar fight," she told Steve. "The other guy slammed his head into a table and he was out of it for a few seconds."

"Wasn't outta it," Bucky protested, but he was still staring at Steve's neck and pawing at his shirt collar. "Steeeve, what's your tattoo, I can't see it."

"It's not a tattoo," Steve said, flushing bright red. Bucky frowned and pulled at Steve's collar. "It's a hickey. Hey, Buck. It's not that interesting. It's not a tattoo. Leave it be."

"Should we apologise for him?" Clint asked Nat. 

"Already did," Natasha answered. She pulled at Bucky to keep him away from Steve. "So, you two know each other? How?"

"Oh, we met here," Steve told her. "He came in with a broken nose a couple of months ago. We sat next to each other while waiting." 

"Steeeeve," Bucky slurred.

"That's...nice," Natasha said. "Why were you here?"

"Got into a fight," Steve answered cheerfully. "Same as today." He showed her his hand, which had a big bruise over the back of his hand and wrist. It was also slightly swollen. "Took a crowbar to my wrist. I think something in it is broken."

Clint and Natasha stared at him. So did Bucky, who was trying to make his mouth work. 

"Sstupid," Bucky said. "You don't fight against crowbars. You fight against people," he said, trying to be super serious, but the effect was somewhat diminished by how wide his pupils were. 

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't set out to fight a crowbar to begin with," Steve said, laughter in his voice. "The crowbar entered the game later."

"Still stupid," Bucky muttered. "Coulda gotten yourself killed."

"Pot, kettle," Steve fired back. 

Bucky chuckled and held up his fist for Steve to fistbump it. Steve touched his uninjured fist to Bucky's, then shook his head. Bucky just grinned happily and leaned back in his chair, making content noises. 

"Uhm, anyway," Steve said, looking up at Clint, who was still standing, and then Natasha. "I'm Steve. I'd shake your hand and all, but I hear it's bad luck to shake with the left and I think you'll need all your luck to deal with this guy." He indicated Bucky.

"Damn right," Natasha muttered. "I'm Natasha, and that's Clint. Somehow we ended up friends with this lump."

"M'not a lump," Bucky mumbled. 

Clint sat in the empty seat next to Steve. "You are," he said. "The biggest lump."

"M'not," Bucky said, trying to heave himself out of the chair. Steve and Natasha both pushed him back. 

"So, Steve," Clint said, "are you the person Bucky here got cozy with by the coffee machine last time we were here?"

"I dunno, depends," Steve answered. His eyes were twinkling. "Are you the guy who nailed himself through the hand building a bookshelf?"

Clint opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Steve said. "How's the hand doing?"

"Hand's fine," Clint said, showing him. There was a neat little red scar almost dead center in his palm. "I got lucky." 

"Oh no you don't," Natasha said suddenly, and when Clint and Steve turned to see, she was shaking Bucky awake.

"Wanna sleep," Bucky slurred. 

Natasha slapped his cheek. 

"Ow!" 

She pinched his arm.

"You're hurting me," Bucky whined. "You're my most evilest ex."

"I'm hurting you because I care about you, you fucking idiot," Natasha snapped at him. "Stay the fuck awake!"

"Step on his foot next time," Clint suggested. 

"Steve, my friends are mean to me," Bucky complained.

"Your friends care about you," Steve said.

"Traitor," Bucky said.

"I'd get you coffee to make up for it, but I don't want to miss my turn," Steve told him. "You're on your own. Friendless and all."

Bucky peered at him. "I can't figure you out."

"There's not much to figure out," Steve said and shrugged.

"I'll get us coffee," Clint offered. "How do you like yours, Steve?"

"Black, thank you."

When Clint came back he had somehow acquired a whole coffee pot and four styrofoam cups. 

"How'd you…?" Steve blinked.

"I've got one talent in this world," Clint said, handing out cups, "and that is acquiring quality coffee."

Natasha gave him a look.

"Well, the most quality coffee in a given place," Clint amended. He poured every cup full and then set the pot down on the floor. "You should be thankful."

"I'm thankful," Bucky said, clinging to his cup like a lifeline. "It smells strong. It smells goooood."

"It should be. The nurses drink this to get through their night shifts," Clint said. "The fumes alone should sober you up."

"Mmmhh," Bucky said, sipping his coffee.

All four of them drank their coffee in peace and quiet, watching the comings and goings of other patients. Somebody came in with the head of a coat hanger in his mouth, metal bit poking through his cheek. 

Every once in a while Natasha stepped on Bucky's foot or pinched his arm to keep him from falling asleep. She made him recite lullabies and Russian poetry every now and then, to prove he was still awake.

Steve got called in and came back half an hour later with his wrist in a cast and a prescription for pain medication. 

"Do you guys mind if I go home?" he asked. "Only, it's two in the morning and I'm dead on my feet."

"You want a ride home?" Clint asked. He looked at Bucky, who didn't look like he was all that present. "I'm sure Nat can handle the lump while I'm gone."

"No, it's fine. My roommate is picking me up in a few," Steve said, shaking his head. "It's just." He shrugged. "I'll see you around, then?" His eyes stilled on Bucky, who was staring into his empty styrofoam cup.

Natasha looked between the two of them. "James," she said, nudging him. "Steve is leaving."

"Huh?" Bucky looked up, eyes focusing slowly on Steve. "Leaving?" He frowned.

"I'll see you around, yeah?" Steve repeated. 

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. "Yeah, see you 'round, yes." He nodded again. "Yes."

Clint was shaking with laughter and Natasha rolled her eyes. "You're fucking useless," she told Bucky. "Come here, Steve," she said and fished a pen out of her purse. She wrote a phone number on Steve's cast and signed it with a B. Then she handed the pen to Steve and tugged Bucky's hand up. "Your number, his hand."

Steve coloured lightly, but he wrote his number on the back of Bucky's hand and signed it with his name. 

"See you later." He gave Natasha the pen back and left.

***

Bucky turned out not to have a concussion. What he had was Steve's number, which he saved into his phone but proceeded not to do anything about, except for staring at it every once in a while.

He sent one text a few weeks later, asking if Steve wanted to hang out, but never got a reply.

***

A Monday afternoon in early December saw Bucky back at the ER, this time with Natasha and Bobbi. Bobbi had called him, letting him know that Natasha had gotten hurt at her Krav Maga class and could he please meet them at the ER, she couldn't stay for long?

"I would ask why you didn't call Clint, but that would be like asking why the sun doesn't rise in the West," Bucky said to Bobbi when he found them. 

Bobbi only shrugged, so Bucky turned to Natasha, who didn't move. Her right arm fell limp against her side, and there was something seriously off about the way she held herself.

"Seriously?" he said. "He's your boyfriend, you know that right?" 

"I can't handle Clint right now," Natasha said. "I'll talk to him when I get home." 

Bucky sat down next to her. "And you," he said, looking at Bobbi accusingly. "It's been _years_. I'm pretty sure Clint isn't going to go into meltdown or anything, the moment he sees you."

"I also can't handle Clint right now," Bobbi shot back. She gathered her things and stood up. "It's got nothing to do with our past sexcapades."

"Whatever. You going now?" 

"See you later, James. Look after her?"

"Of course." He waved her away. "Don't get lost."

"Hilarious." Bobbi squeezed Natasha's shoulder, the one that looked fine. "Text me as soon as you're out of here, all right?"

"Yeah," Natasha replied. "I'll see you later. I'm sorry about class."

"Wasn't your fault, Nat." Bobbi paused, as if she was going to say something more, but then shook her head. "See you." 

Bucky watched her go, then turned towards Natasha. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Dislocated shoulder," Natasha said. She was pale and her skin seemed to shimmer with a thin layer of sweat. "I had a misstep with a student. The student's fine. Me, not so much."

"Shit, Nat," Bucky eyed her up and down. "Did you at least take a painkiller before coming here?"

She shook her head minutely. 

"You know you don't get cool points for that, right?" 

Natasha slowly turned her head and gave him a murderous look. 

"You get all the cool points you want," Bucky said. "How much longer do you have to wait?" 

"I don't know," she said. "They said two hours, but also that they'd try to bump me up because of the pain factor. I've been here about forty minutes." She drew in a shaky breath. "Can you fetch me some tea?"

"Of course. Don't move."

"Not a chance," she muttered.

The coffee machine was still in the hallway it'd been moved to some months prior. Bucky hit the button for hot water and chamomile tea. After a moment of consideration, he also went for peppermint tea, knowing that Natasha liked to mix those up. Black coffee for himself, and he was all set.

When he came back, it was to find Natasha chatting to Steve and a handsome man. 

"You know, Steve," Bucky said, as he approached, "we've got to stop meeting like this." He gave Natasha her weird hybrid tea, then looked at Steve. Maybe he was going for accusing, a little bit. Just a little.

"Oh! Buck, hi," Steve said, getting up. "Hi," he said again. His neck was red and he was trying not to look at Bucky while also trying not to look like he didn't want to look at him.

"I'm Sam," the handsome man said, extending his hand. "I'm this one's roommate," he explained, pointing at Steve. 

"Bucky," Bucky said and shook his hand. 

"I'm sorry I didn't text you back," Steve said, looking properly sorry and everything. "I was in hospital, and then I forgot and then I remembered and it was like, three weeks later and then it was stupid."

Bucky looked to Sam, who just shrugged and said: "Don't look at me, man."

"Sit down," Natasha said. She sounded strained. "You're making me antsy."

"Drink your tea," Bucky said, but sat with her. 

Steve also sat down, somewhat gingerly, on Natasha's other side, and Sam with him. 

"Don't boss me around," Natasha said, but there was no threat behind her words. Bucky eyed her suspiciously, but decided that Natasha was too focused on keeping her pain in check to be dangerous right now.

"Okay, then," he said and looked at Steve. "Hospital?"

"Pneumonia," Steve answered. "It was pretty bad. I was in intensive care for a week." He smiled wryly. "No phones allowed."

"All right, apology accepted," Bucky said, and if his heart stuttered a little, he ignored it. "That's sick, man. _Pneumonia_ landed you in hospital? Did you nearly die or something?"

"Actually, yes," Steve said, shrugging. "It's no big deal!" he added, seeing the alarmed look on Bucky's face. "I get near-death scares about once a year. I'm used to it."

Bucky frowned, trying to find something to say that wouldn't be hugely offensive or weird. "I thought only old people could die from pneumonia," he said. So much for that, he thought.

"Yeah, well…" Steve sighed. "I'm kind of a walking petri dish for disaster, in case you haven't caught on to that yet. My medical record is about the size of the Collins English Dictionary."

"And what disaster brings you here today?" Bucky asked, eyeing him over. He didn't look hurt for once, and the cast was off his wrist. 

Steve's cheeks coloured and Sam started snickering. 

"I'm not sure it's prudent to tell in front of the lady," Steve said, which made Natasha snort. 

"There's nothing you can say which can shock me," she told him. "I grew up in an all male household." She paused for effect. "Also, I live with _him_." She gestured at Bucky. "And you've met Clint."

Steve's cheeks were flaming red. "No, really," he said. 

Sam was laughing now, a loud, cackling laughter which only made Steve more uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat.

"Dude," Bucky said, staring at him. " _Now_ you gotta tell. I'm dying over here."

Steve hid his face in his hands.

Bucky gave Natasha a bewildered look, but she only looked at him like she didn't know either.

"Okay," Steve said, looking up. He swallowed hard. "But you've got to promise not to laugh, and uh, never tell anyone."

"Okay," Bucky said and then a lightbulb went off in his head. "Did you break your dick or something? Because dude, I get that, that happened to me once -"

"No," Steve said, his voice strangled. "No, I didn't break my dick." He paused. "I tell you this and you tell me how you broke your dick, deal?"

"Deal," Bucky said, now leaning so close that he was halfway in Natasha's lap.

Steve looked at Sam, obviously for moral support, but Sam didn't say anything, just looked at him with mirth in his eyes, face split wide in the biggest grin Bucky had ever seen. Steve drew in a deep breath, and then steeled himself as he turned back to Bucky and Natasha. "I've got a vibrator stuck in my ass," he said.

Bucky stared at him, not comprehending. "Did you just say…?" He nearly dropped his coffee.

Natasha's eyes widened.

Sam was off again, laughing so hard tears were forming in his eyes.

"Vibrator, in my ass," Steve said, then glared at Sam. "It's not funny!"

"Dude, it's _hilarious_ ," Sam told him, still laughing.

Bucky was staring at Steve, and if he was trying to angle his head so he could get a look at Steve's backside, well. That was only his curiosity speaking, right?

"I managed to turn it off," Steve said. "But. Uhm."

"How long?" Natasha asked. Her eyes were soft, and Bucky couldn't quite tell if she was amused or just taking pity on him.

"Couple of hours," Steve said. "Spent a couple of hours at home trying to get the damned thing out before I had to concede defeat and come here." He sighed. "And I'm not a high priority case, so god knows how long I've got to wait before the doctors will see me."

Bucky smiled. "You'll get my broken dick story, but first," he cleared his throat, "in the interest of science. If you don't mind answering." 

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Shoot. I don't think I could possibly be any more embarrassed than I already am."

"So," Bucky said, selecting his words carefully, "how many times did you come? Before you turned it off."

Natasha elbowed Bucky and Sam's laughter started up again.

"Gods," Steve said, hiding his face in his hands again. He said something, but it was low and muffled against his hands.

"What was that?" Bucky asked, as innocently as he possibly could.

"Seven. Seven times," Steve said, looking up again. He was somewhat wild eyed. "It stopped being fun and started being painful around the fourth time. I'm a traumatised man."

Bucky whistled. 

"And there went all my dignity," Steve said. "Out the window with seven orgasms and a Big Boss Crystal Ice Vibe."

"I have mad respect for you right now," Bucky said. "That's a giant vibrator. And it's still in there?" He whistled again.

"How would you know?" Steve asked, suspicious. 

"I've got one of those," Bucky answered, shrugging. "I know it well."

"That was more information than I ever needed to know about you," Natasha said, making a face.

"You were the one who gave it to me!" Bucky protested.

"It was a joke gift!" she said.

"Nat, you don't give bisexual men anal vibrators as a joke gift," Bucky pointed out. "The moment you were out the door, that thing was in my ass. Thank you, by the way, I appreciate it very much." He leaned close to her face, leering. "Besides, you know my O-face. Nothing gets more TMI than that."

"You're gross," she said, pushing his face away. "Go bother Steve. Tell him your dick story. Woo him with your broken dick."

Bucky gave her a look, but the nurse at the desk called out Natasha's name, effectively putting a stop to whatever he was going to say. 

"You want me to come with you?" he asked, helping her to her feet. 

"I don't need mothering," Natasha said. "That's why you're here and not Clint." 

"Not what I was asking," Bucky said. "Do you want me to come with you or not? You know, so you can crush my hand when they reset that shoulder?"

Natasha gave him a dirty look, but then relented. "Yes," she sighed. "I would appreciate that."

Bucky turned towards Steve and Sam. "Later," he said. "That cool with you?" 

Steve nodded and Bucky left with Natasha.

***

Steve called Bucky a few days later.

"I never got your dick story," he said. "Want to go for coffee sometime and tell it?"

Bucky laughed. "Hell yeah. Though I have to warn you, it's not actually all that wild. Well," he said. "Not so much the accident, anyway. It was once I got to the hospital things went crazy. It happened in Russia, you see."

"Now I've definitely got to hear this," Steve said. "When are you free? This weekend good?"

"I'm free Sunday, if that works for you?" 

"Perfect," Steve said, and they settled on a time and place. 

"How'd it go at the hospital, by the way?" Bucky asked. "With the vibrator and everything." 

"Oh god, do I have to?" Steve groaned. "I don't think you want to know. I'm not sure I could look you in the eye."

"Try me," Bucky said.

"No, you're just going to have to trust me on this," Steve said. "Maybe in five years time when I've recovered from the trauma, I'll tell you." 

"Fair enough. So, see you Sunday?"

"Yeah. See you then."

***

Steve was already waiting when Bucky arrived. He was sitting in a quiet corner of the shop and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos. He had a sketch pad in his hand and several pencils laid out on the table, next to a small plate with crumbs and an empty mug.

"You started without me?" Bucky joked, sliding into the seat across from him. 

"I've been here all morning," Steve confessed. "I've got some assignments to finish today, so figured I'd get a headstart. I didn't know how long we'd be here. Want to see?" 

"Sure," Bucky said, now curious. "I didn't know you did art stuff." 

"I'm in art school," Steve told him, handing the sketch pad over. "Please don't touch the drawings, by the way. Just look."

Bucky flicked through the pad; there were a lot of sketches, but also some full colour drawings and portraits. "This is pretty great," he said. "You're good."

"Thanks." Steve smiled, taking the sketch pad back. He flicked back to the front. "This one's part of a sci-fi themed assignment. There are going to be four more drawings, I think, I've not decided yet. the other stuff is mostly for my classics class." 

"I like it." Bucky smiled. "I didn't know you were an artist. You surprise me." 

"Really?" Steve cocked an eyebrow. "The tattoos, nerd glasses, hair cut and piercings didn't give it away? I'm a walking cliche." 

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe you're a little punk, but I try not to make assumptions," he said. "Besides, I flunked out of college so I'm a little out of touch with the scene."

Steve put the sketch pad and pencils away. "What'd you study?" He leaned over the table.

"Russian and Social Sciences," Bucky answered. "It was exactly as dull as it sounds." 

"Interesting choice. Why was it dull?" 

The waitress came over and took away Steve's empty plate. "Can I get you boys anything? A refill for you, Steve?" 

"No refill, I'll go with a hot chocolate this time," Steve told her, giving her a small smile. "I've had enough caffeine for the day, thanks." 

"I'm good with just a coffee," Bucky said. "Black."

"Coming right up," she said and vanished behind the counter.

"I might be a regular here. Best scones and coffee within a mile radius of campus," Steve told him. "You were telling me about your studies," he prompted.

"Yeah, well. It just wasn't my thing." Bucky shrugged. "I liked the Russian part lots, but not so much the rest. When I came back from Russia - I did an exchange year there, that's actually how I met Nat - I switched majors and then eventually I just dropped the whole thing."

"What happened then?"

"I worked a few random jobs, then got my current gig. I'm a mechanic - well, apprentice, I guess is the word for it. I'll finish my apprenticeship in the summer, and I've been promised a job right after, so that's pretty great." Bucky shot Steve a smile. "It's not very glamorous, but I like it well enough. Got some crazy colleagues. It's fun and I can make the ends meet. It'll be better once I get a proper job, though."

The waitress returned with their drinks and Steve thanked her. 

"That's quite a career change," Steve said. "It's pretty cool though. I wouldn't have guessed."

"What, that I'm a greasemonkey or that I went to college?" Bucky grinned. "I'm not sure whether to be offended or not."

"I didn't mean - oh _shut up_ ," Steve muttered, having caught on. "That was mean." He shot Bucky a dirty look.

"I'm not ashamed of any of it," Bucky said. "Good things have come out of both things. You know Clint, right? I met him at college. He's a veteran; when he came back he decided to go to college on the President's dime and we shared some classes. I met Nat in Russia. She came to the States with me and then just never left again."

"I suppose that explains some things," Steve said, smiling warmly. "And Natasha? She must've been pretty devoted to you to follow you over here."

"Oh, Nat and I had already broken up by then. We had one of those short and explosive affairs. Lasted about a month or so and then we were friends, and have been ever since. I introduced her to Clint about a week after she arrived here, and I guess the rest is history." Bucky sipped his coffee. "Trade," he said. "Your turn to spill."

"Well, I live with Sam and Riley," Steve said. "I used to live by myself, but when Sam and Riley got together, they suddenly had a spare bedroom, so I moved in when my lease went up. Sam's a vet too - so's Riley, by the way - and he's studying Psychology. It's pretty cool. We met during my stubborn phase, the one where I decided I absolutely had to be fit and maybe grow some muscle. I went running, my asthma got the best of me, and Sam picked up my pieces when he came running past."

Bucky's eyebrows went up. "You have asthma and you went running?"

"I had my inhaler," Steve said, if somewhat pointedly. "It was okay. I let go of the idea of running after a couple of tries, and did other stuff instead. It worked out pretty well. I'm stronger than I look." He grinned.

"You still work out then?"

"Only sometimes." Steve shrugged. "I'm not that devoted to it. I've better things to do with my time. And sometimes it hurts too much, so I just don't."

"It shouldn't hurt if you're doing it the right way," Bucky said, frowning. "I mean, I don't want to get all up in your business and all, but…" he trailed off, Steve's amused look silencing him.

"Remember how I said my medical record is the size of the Collins English Dictionary?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"So." Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky then held up his hand and started counting, pulling down his thumb first. "Scoliosis. It's mostly corrected, I wore a back brace for most of my childhood and teenage years. It doesn't give me much trouble, but if you look at my spine you can tell it's not completely straight. I go in for regular check ups to make sure it won't develop back." Index finger. "I had a few heart surgeries as a kid and it's no longer an issue, though I also go in for regular check ups for that." Middle finger. "Pernicious anemia. Non-deadly, currently. I take meds for that, but it's just vitamin B12. Regular check ups for that too." Ring finger. "Asthma. I've got an inhaler, but I don't need it as often these days. It was worse when I was a kid." Little finger. "Partial hearing loss. Born with it. I've got hearing aids, but that's about it. Not planning on surgery." Steve held up his other hand, and turned down the thumb. "Shit vision. I considered LASIK, but I'm irrationally fond of my glasses. Also, it's a little expensive. I'm not sure my insurance would pay for it." Index finger. "I'm colour blind as well, I suppose that counts." Middle finger. "My immune system is not my best friend, and I get colds all the time. I get flu shots every season because I'm in the risk group and the flu could wipe me out, so." Steve frowned. "I think that it's. I don't think I forgot anything. Though if you ask Sam, he says my tendency to get into fights should count as a sickness as well."

"Okay," Bucky said slowly, staring at him in awe. "You're colour blind _and_ an artist?"

Steve blinked. "All that, and _that's_ what you take away?" 

"Dude, I just saw your drawings!" Bucky gestured in the general direction of Steve's messenger bag. "Not one colour was off. Either you're lying about the colour blindness or you're some kind of wizard."

"Well," Steve said, blushing a little. He rubbed his neck. "I've learned to tell the difference. It was a bit difficult at first, but. I know my pencils and keep them well organised and I can generally tell when a colour is not the colour I think it is. Like." He frowned. "Like! The sky! I see it as pink. Except, I know it's not pink, right?" Steve gestured out the window, where the sky was actually neither pink nor blue, but cloudy and a little grey. "And the sky is different shades of pink depending on what time of day it is, you know? And then it's actually pink sometimes. I can tell the difference between the fake pink and the real pink." 

"That's fucking impressive," Bucky said. "You're way cooler than I thought you were." 

"Thanks." Steve smiled. He lit right up.

"Besides, scrawny kid like you beating up other people? Enough to get my heart going. Just saying." Bucky winked at him, then took a sip of his coffee. 

"Only people who deserve it," Steve muttered. His cheeks were a little flushed, but he looked pleased with himself. "So," he said, clearing his throat and looking up, challenge in his eyes. "Am I getting your dick story today, or don't you put out on the first date?"

Bucky nearly choked on his coffee. "You know," he said. "Just for that, I'm going to make you work for it."

"I'm up to the challenge," Steve said, grinning impishly.

"Fuck that. Come here," Bucky said, and pulled him across the table. He nearly upset Steve's chocolate. "Go on." 

Steve grabbed Bucky's neck and pulled him the rest of the way in, closing the gap between their lips. The kiss was warm and slightly wet, and Steve tasted of chocolate and coffee. 

"Oh," Bucky said, when Steve finally let go. He fell back into his chair. "A plus," he said. "That excellent." 

"Oh yeah?" Steve grinned. "Wanna check to make sure?" 

"Hell yes." Bucky grinned back. "My place?" 

Steve's face fell. "I'd love to, but." He shrugged helplessly. "I've got that assignment to finish before the morning. I shouldn't be long, but -" He looked at Bucky, conflict writ all over his face.

"I get it, it's cool." Bucky was a little disappointed, yeah, but this could wait. "Let's finish our drinks? And make plans. There should be plans."

"All right. Yeah." Steve smiled, relieved. "Okay, so. Tomorrow? Evening? I work part time at the tattoo parlour the next street over. I do some basic tattooing, nothing too complicated," he explained. "Not yet, anyway. You could pick me up when my shift ends, maybe?" 

"What time?" 

"We close the shop at eight, so eight thirty? I need to clean my gear and all," Steve said. 

"Mmmh, works for me," Bucky said. "That's pretty late. Will you be wanting food first, or?"

"Maybe, depends on how busy the shop gets and whether we'll get the time to eat at all." Steve smiled and picked up his chocolate. "let's just wait and see?" 

Bucky nodded his assent, sipping his coffee.

Steve nearly finished his chocolate. He smirked behind the mug, which Bucky was about 99% certain was on purpose. "Will you respect me in the morning?" Steve asked, the smirk turning into a full on grin.

"I'll even cook you breakfast," Bucky grinned back. He finished his coffee. "Would you look at that. All gone. That means kisses now," he said, pushing the mug away and leaning across the table. 

"Does it now," Steve said, but he was leaning in to meet Bucky. He grinned against his lips, and then they were kissing again, this time a little more urgently, a little more wanting. "I'm tempted to take you home right away, you know."

"I want to," Bucky said and kissed him again. "Better stick to the plan." 

"Mmmhh." Kiss. "By the way," Steve murmured, then another kiss. "Come on foot tomorrow. I'm driving."

"All right," Bucky answered and kissed him again. "I need to leave now. Else I'll kidnap you."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. He leaned back, and Bucky reluctantly did the same, then got up. He left a couple of bills on the table for his coffee.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Text me the address?" 

"Yeah, will do." 

Steve looked up at him, heat in his eyes and Bucky couldn't resist, so he leaned down to kiss him once more. "See you," he said, then he was gone.

***

In the evening, Steve texted him a photo of the finished series of sci-fi drawings.

 _cool_ , Bucky texted back. _u all finished?_

_just now. heading to shower in a bit._

Bucky snorted. _u kno there's a comment beggin 2b made here rite_

 _please don't_ , Steve texted almost immediately. _my delicate sensibilities can't handle it._

_now i kno ur lyin  
mr big boss crystal ice vibe_

Steve didn't answer for a long while so Bucky wondered if maybe he'd crossed a line somewhere. He put his phone down and refocused on the tv, where he was currently rewatching season one of Walking Dead.

His phone buzzed and Bucky snatched it up.

_you still owe me your broken dick_

_well played_ , he texted back.

 _i'm up early tomorrow so i really am going to shower and then bed_ , Steve replied. _night, see you tomorrow_

Bucky considered texting him _c u 2morro cutiepie_ , but he decided their relationship was not yet at a stage where that would be acceptable. He deleted the 'cutiepie' part before he sent the text.

***

Steve's tattoo parlour was just a few minutes' walk from the subway and if Bucky was a little bit early, then he couldn't be faulted for it.

The commandos had been needling him about his good mood all day, but Bucky had only grinned at them and continued whistling and humming along to the radio as he fixed cars, and at one point, gave an old Porsche a new paint job. It was only when his shift ended that he'd admitted he had a date, but he was out of there before they could comment on it.

Now he was showered and dressed again, hungry, and standing right in front of a two-window store with a giant sign above it proudly proclaiming this to be VALHALLA. 

He pushed the door open, only to be met with silver bells ringing above the door and a shouted "We're closed!" from a heavily tattooed and pierced guy in a green t-shirt, lounging behind the counter and apparently painting his nails. 

"I'm here to see Steve?" Bucky asked, having paused halfway through the door. He glanced around, eyes landing on the door towards the back.

Before the guy in the green shirt could respond do that, another tattooed and pierced guy came through the door to the back. This one was big and blond. "We're closed," he said, giving Bucky a confused look. 

"I know," Bucky said. "I'm here to see Steve? He asked me to meet him here."

"Oh!" Big and blond lit up, then he turned to holler through the door. "STEVE!" He turned back to Bucky, all smiles and pleasantness. "I am Thor! This is my shop," he said, gesturing at all of it and nearly knocking down a ceiling lamp. "And this is my brother," he added, indicating green shirt, who did not look up from his nails.

"I'm, uhm. Bucky," Bucky said, holding out his hand to Thor. He let the shop door fall shut behind him. "Nice to meet you?" 

"The pleasure is all mine," Thor said, nearly crushing his hand. "Steve should be right -" Thor looked back towards the door, then frowned. "He probably did not hear me," he said and Bucky privately thought that Steve's hearing could not be so bad that he couldn't hear this guy. Impossible. He sounded like he could wake _mountains_.

"The walls are three feet of reinforced concrete," green shirt chided. "And the radio is on in the back room. Honestly, Thor."

"Very well, then," Thor said, sheepish. "Come with me." He grabbed Bucky's shoulder and steered him through to the back, where Steve was busying himself with some tools at a counter by the far end of the room, back turned. The radio was playing classic rock. "Steve!" Thor boomed. "I brought your friend. He is your friend, is he not?"

Steve looked over his shoulder to check who was there, and when he saw Bucky his face lit up. "Bucky, hey," he said, putting down his tools and wiping his hands on a dishcloth. 

"Hey," Bucky said, not moving. He glanced at Thor, who was not so much the elephant in the room as the big, blond and possibly Scandinavian man in the room. "Am I too early?" 

"No, you're fine," Steve said and shooed Thor out. "I'm okay, Thor."

"All right!" Thor beamed at them and then slipped back into the front room. 

Bucky was so busy watching Thor leave (he was only human, after all, and _that_ was a lot of beefcake), that he didn't notice Steve getting all up into his space. "Hey," he said, putting his hands on Steve's waist. Steve's hands curled around his neck.

"I'll have to disappoint you and tell you Thor is straight," Steve said, his lips curled into a knowing smile. "He is nice to look at, hm?" 

"Not as nice as you," Bucky said and kissed him.

"Smooth," Steve chuckled and his smile spread to his eyes. "Don't need to worry, do I?"

"Not at all." Bucky pulled him closer, entertaining the idea of lifting him up on that counter and then maybe making out like teenagers for half an hour.

"I'm almost finished up in here," Steve said. "Sit? I'll only be a few." 

"Okay." Bucky reluctantly let him go, but not before he could steal another kiss. 

There was a little round dinner table and four chairs in the room, and Bucky chose the chair which would allow him full view of Steve as he puttered around with his tools. He watched him take a boiling pot off the stove, fish out a number of metal knick knacks and put them away to dry, check the contents of a cupboard containing nothing but ink, it seemed, and another that held various blends of coffee, tea and biscuits. The radio, which Bucky now saw was hooked up to an iPod, played Guns'n'Roses. 

Thor poked his head through the door a little while later. "Loki and I will order food," he said. "Are you boys hungry?"

Steve looked to Bucky, who only shrugged. Where and what they ate didn't matter, so long as Steve would be there.

"Yes," Steve said. "Please. What are you ordering?" 

"Hogun's," Thor answered.

"Count us in," Steve said with a little grin. 

Bucky did nothing to contain his delight over Steve's enthusiasm. He was charmed out of his shoes, and so what? He leaned back in his chair and continued watching Steve and occasionally whistling along to the music. The iPod was now playing Alice Cooper.

Steve had just finished up when Thor came back, brother in tow, with several boxes of 'Hogun's Chinese-Nordic Fusion Kitchen'.

They spread the boxes all over the dining table, and green shirt got forks from a drawer. Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over his chair, then made space for Steve next to him. 

"This smells amazing," Bucky said, breathing in as Thor opened the boxes.

"Hogun's a friend," Steve told him and turned the radio off (in the middle of Siouxsie and the Banshees, no less), then slid into the seat next to him. He shuffled his chair a little closer to Bucky's. "We get discounts."

"Best food in all of New York," Thor proclaimed, then amended, "although not better than my mother's cooking." 

Green shirt handed out forks, faltering a little when he saw Bucky's left arm. "What's that? If you don't mind my asking." 

Steve looked over, then blinked and leaned closer to see. Bucky belatedly remembered that Steve hadn't seen his arm out of a jacket or a longsleeve before, so he rolled up his t-shirt sleeve and showed them.

"This?" he tried to go for nonchalant, not commenting on the obvious and choosing to talk about the tattoo instead. "It's in progress. Sort of. I haven't had any work done on it in close to three years. My tattoo guy moved away, and I haven't been able to find one as good as him to finish it."

"Cover-up?" Steve asked, staring intently at his arm. "Sorry," he added hurriedly. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay," Bucky said, fingers tracing the uneven, discoloured skin. "I got burned pretty badly, one time - molotov cocktail, actually. It wasn't all bad, but I got a skin graft here and here," he explained, pointing at the areas in question. "The burn extends from here," he indicated top of his shoulder, "to all the way down here," he indicated a spot on his forearm. The skin there looked fairly normal except for the being a slightly different colour, and a spot shinier. This extended up to his elbow, where the skin got uneven. He turned his arm to show them the inside. "Inside is fine."

"And the tattoo?" Steve asked, tracing his fingertips gently over the lines on his bicep. "Some kind of biomechanic design?" 

"Close, but no." Bucky smiled, turning his arm so he could see it better himself. "The concept was robot, but not the kind where you can see the wiring and pumps and cogs and everything. We also wanted to go for a more armoured look, and then we came up with plating. These lines are the edges of the plates," he explained. "It's meant to be full sleeve and coloured in, but as you can see we never got that far." 

"I know someone who can finish that up for you, and do it well!" Thor said and green shirt groaned.

"Thor, no," he said.

Thor clapped his brother's back. "Loki is very talented with a needle," he said, proudly. He smiled broadly. "His specialty is metal work. Why, you could say he has a talent for transforming flesh into anything he pleases!"

"You're being rude, Thor," green shirt - Loki - said. He looked at Bucky. "I apologise for my brother. I'll have you know we're not brothers by blood." He glared at Thor.

"You wound me," Thor said, but there was no heat behind it.

Loki stabbed Thor's bicep with his fork and Thor yelped.

"They do this a couple of times a day," Steve whispered to Bucky, which kinda explained a lot. "Stay quiet and they'll forget you're in the room."

"Thanks for the advice," Bucky whispered back.

He and Steve ate in quiet, watching the brothers snipe at each other. 

"You'll have to tell me the story about how you got that," Steve whispered a little while later, indicating Bucky's arm. "Especially the molotov part."

"Sooo," Bucky whispered back. "If I tell you both stories, what do I get in return?" He put on his dirtiest grin and slid a hand over Steve's thigh under the table. 

Steve stared at him, then licked his lips and leaned in close. "Certainly not sexual favours," he whispered, letting his breath ghost over Bucky's ear. "I might send you a sext or two, though."

"I suddenly have somewhere else to be," Thor said loudly, clambering up and away from the table. He grabbed a carton of food and stuck his fork in it, clearly not intending to leave without having eaten his fill.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Subtle, Thor," he said, but got up as well. "Don't burn down the shop," he said to Steve and Bucky. Then he fished a small card out of his pocket and slid across the table to Bucky. "In case my brother's rousing endorsement of my talents got your interest."

"We were actually just leaving," Steve said, putting down his fork. 

"Yeah." Bucky cleared his throat and stood up. He quickly shrugged into his jacket and pocketed the card Loki had given him. "We have somewhere to be. Don't, uhm, leave on our account." 

Thor eyed them suspiciously, then sat back down. "All right! Have fun," he said. "And be safe." He added this last part with a meaningful eyebrow wiggle.

His brother facepalmed. 

"See you on Wednesday," Steve said pointedly and then dragged Bucky out through the back door, through a short corridor with doors to what Bucky presumed were storage rooms off to both sides, and to the outside.

The corridor led out to an alley, closed off by gates on both ends. Three motorcycles were parked in the alley; two shiny new Kawasakis, and an old, partially restored, Harley. 

"The Harley's mine," Steve said. "Hang on, I forgot something." He disappeared back inside before Bucky could get a word out.

Bucky stared at the bike. It was smaller than most Harley's he saw around the garage, but it was beautiful. In need of some replacements here and there - purely cosmetic, the engine was obviously well cared for - and very impressive looking. His expertise wasn't with motorcycles at all, but he could tell it'd had parts replaced, possibly to make it lighter. He ran his fingers over the leather on the seat. Smooth and soft. 

When Steve came back he was wearing a pair of leather bike trousers over his jeans, had two helmets dangling off one arm and a pile of more leathery articles in his arms.

"Thor had an extra set of bike leathers," Steve said, "for you to borrow. They're his first set, pretty old, and will be a little big on you, but they'll do in a pinch. Try the helmet first; it's my spare but I think Thor's got another in case that one doesn't fit."

Bucky's mouth was dry, so he just nodded and took the helmet off Steve. Steve dumped the leathers on the bike and put his jacket on, so Bucky shook his head and tried the helmet. It was a little tighter than it probably should be, but it went on. 

"Like this?" he asked and Steve looked it over, fitting his fingers under the edge. 

"A little tight, but it'll do. Oh, you can put your jacket into the saddlebag if you don't want to wear it under the bike jacket," he added.

"Okay, yeah," Bucky said, a little overwhelmed. "I am so turned on right now, you know?" he blurted. He knew his pupils were blown, but damn it. He wasn't going to be ashamed of this.

Steve's smile was brilliant. "Get in those leathers," he said, handing him the pile and pointing at the door. "I'll move the bike in the meantime, come find me on the street." 

"You did this on purpose," Bucky accused, taking the pile of leathers. "You _knew_!" 

"I hoped," Steve corrected. He was still smiling and Bucky didn't know how he was going to survive the rest of the evening. "Now, go. Hurry up."

Bucky went inside and pulled his boots off so he could get the trousers on. Thor's old gear was a little big on him, yeah, but not as big as he'd expected. He suspected Thor had probably grown out of these at some point.

Hot damn, though. He liked Steve, a lot actually, liked his confidence and his lips and the gentle way he held himself, but this. This was more than he'd asked for. He drew in a breath and shook his head, clearing his mind.

Steve was waiting by the curb. Bucky gave him his address, they discussed briefly the best way to get there, and then Bucky climbed on behind him. 

The pillion seat wasn't very comfortable, but he could live with that. He put his arms tight around Steve. Glued himself to Steve's back, more like.

"Nervous?" Steve asked. His voice was a little muffled through the helmet. 

"Maybe?"

"Have you ridden like this before?"

"No."

"All right. Just hang on tight, and lean with me, okay? Follow me. You'll be fine." 

"Okay!" Bucky said, perhaps a little louder than he intended. "Go, go, go!" He nudged him.

And off they went.

***

Bucky's nerves were on fire by the time they pulled up outside his apartment building. He scrambled off the bike and removed his helmet, then stared wide-eyed at Steve.

He swallowed, unable to make his conversational skills work, and gripped the helmet tighter to hide how much his hands were shaking.

Steve kicked the stand down and put the bike in gear, and then something Bucky reckoned was probably the parking brake. He took off his glasses and his helmet, then put the glasses back on and looked at Bucky, shit eating grin on his face.

"I have _no words_ ," Bucky told him. 

"I know," Steve said, all full of cheer. 

"Jerk." 

"You love it," Steve said and stepped up to kiss him. "Gimme a minute, and I'll be right with you." 

He spent a short while putting wheel locks on the bike and chaining it to the streetlight, then went over it a second time to make sure everything was okay. "It was my dad's bike," Steve said by way of explanation, when he was finished. 

"I like it. It's a handsome bike," Bucky said. "Nat's staying at Clint's these days," he added and led Steve inside the building and up the stairs. "So we got the place to ourselves. I'm up on the third floor."

"Oh! How's she? Her shoulder, I mean." 

"Sore, but otherwise she's all right. A little cranky because she's not allowed to teach any of her classes this week."

"Oh, that's good," Steve said, but he sounded a little distracted. He unzipped his jacket, so Bucky did the same. 

If Steve was a little out of breath when they made it to the third floor landing, Bucky didn't comment on it.

"Stuff goes in here," Bucky said, opening the built-in-wardrobe in the entrance hall. He put both helmets up on the top shelf. "And no shoes in the flat, Nat's rule. She's Russian, it's a thing."

"Fair enough," Steve said, smiling a little as they took their bike leathers off. "Were those okay?"

"Yeah. Though if we're going to be on that bike a lot, I'm going to need my own set."

"That sounds a lot like a promise," Steve commented nonchalantly.

"Not a promise," Bucky said, narrowing his eyes at Steve. "You ride like you have a deathwish."

"I've had bikes for ten years," Steve said, gently, and pulled him in for a soft kiss. "I'm an experienced rider."

"...That does make me feel a little better," Bucky admitted and lead him into the flat. "Want a drink?" 

Steve looked around the flat, his eyes drawn towards the large bookshelf-entertainment centre combo. 

"We've got beer, juice and water," Bucky added, looking into the fridge. "Also tea and coffee." He closed the fridge, Steve's arms coming round his waist from behind at the same time.

"We came here to have sex," Steve said. Then he must've gone up on tip-toes, because the next thing Bucky felt was Steve's lips on the back of his neck. 

"We did," Bucky acknowledged and turned around in Steve's arms, pulling him flush against himself. "But I didn't think we were in a hurry." He grinned, his fingers slipping just under the hem of Steve's t-shirt. 

Steve grinned back, sliding his palms up Bucky's chest. "We have all the time in the world," he said, "but maybe I just really want to bang you. Like, right now." 

"Yes, we can do that, we can definitely do that," Bucky said and backed him up against the counter, then lifted him up. "I wanted to do that already back there," he said, now sliding his hands under Steve's shirt and nosing his neck. 

"Good," Steve said and hooked his legs around Bucky's waist, pulling him in. "I wanted you to." 

"Yeah?" Bucky was achingly, painfully hard now, and he could feel Steve was just as hard. He crushed their mouths together, a little desperate. 

Steve's fingers curled in his hair as their tongues slid together, his hips gyrating against Bucky's. "Come on, bedroom," he said and nipped at Bucky's lips.

"Mhhyes," Bucky replied, kissing him again. "Okay, bedroom. Go," he groaned, looking up at Steve and his parted lips. "Fuck."

"Yes," Steve said and slid down from the counter, purposefully rubbing himself against Bucky on the way down. He pulled his t-shirt off.

"Door on the right," Bucky said, unable to take his eyes off Steve. There was a tattoo on his chest, right over his heart, but he was too distracted to make out what it was. 

He nearly tripped over the coffee table on the way to the bedroom. It wasn't his fault he couldn't see where he was going when taking his clothes off, okay? He scowled at Steve, who was laughing, and then tackled him to the bed. 

"What d'you want?" Bucky asked, hips grinding up against Steve, one hand in Steve's hair, the other on his ass. 

"This is good," Steve moaned against his neck, rutting against him and panting, and Bucky thought maybe he'd never seen anything as beautiful Steve right now. "Buck, ah -" 

"I know," Bucky gasped, he was so close, wanted so much. He let go of Steve's ass and instead he wrapped it around both their cocks. "Come on, Steve, come on," he murmured against Steve, planting hot, open mouthed kisses on his face, his neck, anywhere he could reach. His hand was slick with precum, Steve was hot in his arms, and the sounds he was making were absolutely delicious. "Steve, Steve, Steve -"

Steve pulled himself up, slowing down a little, which was so unfair, totally unfair, but then he was kissing Bucky, hot and wet and okay, yes this was good too.

"Almost there," Steve murmured into Bucky's mouth, who tightened his hold on their cocks a little, and Steve panted, resting his head on Bucky's chest. He ground a little faster and Bucky lost his breath.

Steve came first, crying out and shaking, rutting into Bucky's hand until he suddenly stopped. 

"Steve," Bucky said, pressing his nose into Steve's hair, "Steeeeve, come on."

"Yes, yes," Steve said, and then he was suddenly gone, kneeling back and pushing Bucky's hand away, curling his fingers around his cock and stroking. "Like this, yeah?" 

"Yeah," Bucky moaned, curling his fists into the sheets now, watching, watching Steve's hand and his flushed neck and red lips. He came with a loud groan, bucking into Steve's hand. "Okay, okay," he panted and Steve let go, already reaching for the tissues.

He cleaned himself up, then Bucky, and threw the balled up tissues at the waste bin. "That was worth the wait," he said as he laid out half atop Bucky. "Mmmh."

"What wait?" Bucky mumbled, pulling him closer. "There was hardly any wait."

Steve giggled, and wow okay, that shouldn't be hot, except it totally was. "Okay," he said, looking up. His glasses were all askew like this, and Bucky told him as much. "I know, but I want to look at you," was Steve's answer. 

Bucky wanted to say things like "where have you been all my life" and "draw me like one of your French girls" and maybe "I want to suck you off". Definitely that last one. Instead he said: "I'm thirsty. Want something to drink?"

"Yes, but I don't want to move just yet." Steve let his fingers wander idly over Bucky's chest. "Maybe in a few minutes." 

They stayed like that for a little while, Bucky eventually grabbing Steve's fingers to put them in his mouth, and Steve squeaking as he pulled them back. 

They got up, slipping on boxers and t-shirts, because Natasha was an unpredictable sort, and wandered into the kitchen. They had water from the tap and then Bucky made them tea, stealing some of Natasha's because he could.

"Can I look at your netflix queue?" Steve asked, fiddling with the remote to the tv and Bucky's PS3. 

"Sure," Bucky called back. He finished making their tea and carried their mugs over and set them down on the coffee table. The netflix list Steve was looking at looked all wrong. "That's Natasha's profile," he said.

"Oh, good," Steve said, faking relief. "Here I thought you had a weird obsession with sharks and 90s sitcoms, and," he said, frowning, "badly choreographed fight movies."

"Her favourite pastime is to pick those apart," Bucky said and grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa. "Come here." 

Steve curled up with Bucky under the blanket, and switched to the right profile. Bucky let Steve pick something from his queue to watch. 

After a couple of episodes of Mad Men and some lazy kisses they collected their sleepy selves and went to bed.

***

Natasha came home in the middle of breakfast. She gave them one look, head tilted. "You two are disgusting," she decided, and then disappeared into the bathroom.

"What?" Steve asked, apprehensive.

"She means we're cute," Bucky said, grinning. He leaned across the table to smother Steve in kisses. 

"Gross!" Natasha called out.

Steve borrowed one of Bucky's t-shirts so that he wouldn't have to go home for a change of clothes before his first class of the morning.

***

After precisely three weeks Steve picked up Bucky at the garage with the intention to take him out to get him his own bike helmet and leathers. It was the day of New Year's Eve, Steve's favourite bike shop had a sale, and they were going to take advantage of it.

"What have got here?" Dum Dum said, whistling appreciatively. Somebody else joined in - Monty, in all likelihood - so Bucky wheeled out from under the car he was tinkering with to see what was going on.

Steve had just pulled up outside the garage, and was currently removing his helmet.

"That's my guy," Bucky said, and got to his feet. "Give me a minute." 

He was at Steve's side in five seconds flat, kissing him within an inch of his life. 

"I'm happy to see you too," Steve said, when Bucky finally released him.

"Come say hi to the guys," Bucky said, nodding towards the garage, where all of them (really, all of them) had gathered to watch the two of them. "You'll be forced to show off your bike, by the way, so consider yourself warned."

"Okay," Steve said, amused and not looking scared at all.

He shook hands with all of them, and true enough, within half a minute they were all standing around his bike while Steve pointed at parts and told what was what and why and what plans he had for other parts and so on. Jim was particularly interested in how Steve had made his bike lighter, so Steve launched into the entire story of how Thor had fixed him up with a guy and - Bucky had heard it a couple of times already, so he tuned it out and finished up the car he was working on. 

He went to retrieve Steve from the pack before he got completely mauled.

"Showtime's over," Bucky said, thunking Dum Dum and Gabe on the back. "Can I have my guy back, please? Steve?" 

"You come back here, I'll get you a good deal on rims," Jim said to Steve, and his tone said there was no discussion to be had on this topic. 

"Uh, sure," Steve said, looking a little overwhelmed. "I'll keep it in mind?"

"Don't you have jobs to tend to?" Bucky said, shooing them off. "Seriously, guys."

Steve only grinned as the commandos all patted his back and declared him to be all right, just fine, and left them alone. Monty wolf whistled and Bucky gave him the finger.

"You're looking a little antsy there, Buck," Steve said, pulling Bucky closer by his belt loops. "Your guys are harmless."

"You say that _now_ ," Bucky said. "Just wait." 

Steve kissed him. "They're cool. Now get dressed, the shop closes in an hour." 

The whole thing was exhilarating, and a little terrifying. It was more commitment than Bucky was strictly used to, but Steve's happiness more than made up for the butterflies in Bucky's stomach.

Having bike leathers that actually fit him was nice too.

***

In the evening, it was party at Bucky and Natasha's. Steve had invited a couple of his own friends along, so the flat was even more crammed than usual - especially seeing as Thor alone took up space for three people.

The party seemed to be a success. Peggy and Bobbi had hit it right off the bat, and soon enough they'd roped Thor and Sif into some kind of complicated drinking game. The vets and Natasha had commanded the sofa and the PS3, and everyone else drifted between the two groups, so Steve and Bucky had ample opportunity to sneak away whenever they wanted to.

Not long after midnight found them sitting out on the fire escape, Steve slotted nicely between Bucky's legs, leaning against his chest. Bucky's coat was around both of them; it wasn't quite freezing, but it was cold enough for their breaths to be visible as little white puffs in the air. 

"Happy New Year," Bucky said, kissing the top of his head. "Here's to both of us staying out of the ER in the new year."

"Don't jinx it," Steve said, pulling Bucky's arms closer around him.

"Knowing my friends, there'll probably be at least one trip to the ER tonight," Bucky said. "I'm not counting that. It's not properly the new year until tomorrow."

"It's already tomorrow," Steve pointed out. "You know. Just to be pedantic."

Bucky squeezed him. "Don't destroy the illusion," he said. "I'm dead serious."

"Hey guys," Natasha said, poking her head out the window. "Steve, just the person I was looking for. If you've got a sec."

"Yeah, of course," Steve said, turning to look at her. "What's up?"

"Clint ran out of batteries and he forgot his spares," she said. "What size do you use?"

"You know, there's a joke in there somewhere," Bucky said. "A really dirty one," he continued. "One that -"

Steve pinched his arm. 

"Ow!" 

"Size thirteen," he told Natasha. "Does that work?" 

"Perfect," she said. "I could kiss you right now. Thank you, you're a lifesaver."

"No problem," Steve said, smiling at her. "They're in my wallet, in my jacket."

Natasha vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared.

"You pinched me," Bucky complained.

"I'll kiss it better later," Steve said. "Once everyone has left.

"I'll hold you to that promise," Bucky said, dipping his head to press his lips to Steve's neck.

"You know, it was kind of a terrible idea to come out here," Steve said. "You lured me out here with the promise of fireworks, but." Steve gestured at the view in front of them. "All I see is a brick wall."

"Yeah okay, you've got me figured out," Bucky said, laughing. "This was never about fireworks. It was all just a ploy to get you to myself for more than five minutes."

"Well, it worked," Steve said. Then: "You know, you never told me your dick story."

Bucky froze, then burst out laughing. "Oh, for fuck's sake. I'd forgotten all about that." 

"So, what will it be?" Steve stroked his thumb over Bucky's hand.

"All right, all right. I'll tell you." Bucky shook his head. "It was possibly the worst week of my life, by the way. Just so you know." 

"Go on." 

"Okay. So. I was in Russia for my exchange year. I'd been there for about, three months or so. It was pretty early on, Nat and I had already broken up, so. I went out with this other girl and we were having a pretty good time and everything, so we went back to my room. And we get going and it's all good, until suddenly…" Bucky paused, shuddering. "There was this searing pain, and just, blood. Everywhere. I screamed, she screamed, and I was just lying there holding my dick, you know? While it bled all over the place and I was whimpering like...well, like I'd just torn my dick. The girl ran, I never saw her again."

"Jesus," Steve said, wincing slightly. "What then?" 

"I managed to get dressed and went to the ER, only my Russian wasn't that good at the time, you know? I don't know what I told them, but they got it all wrong, and meanwhile I was in a lot of pain and still bleeding, and after about an hour I called Natasha and asked her to come save me." Bucky shook his head. "So Natasha comes in, asks what the fuck did I do, and I told her and she just... Her eyes went really wide, and I think she'd have laughed if she hadn't seen the amount of pain I was in," he said. "Anyway, she cleared it up with the doctors and they dealt with it in like ten minutes. Turned out I'd torn my frenulum. They operated and sent me home, gave me some painkillers and that was it."

"Wow. So what then, no sex for a week?" 

"Oh yeah, no sex for a couple of weeks. That wasn't the worst," Bucky told him. "Two days later Nat and I went to a demonstration, which happened to turn violent. Just as we were getting the hell out of dodge, some of the more radical types started throwing out molotovs. Ruined my favourite jacket, and half my arm, so I was back in the ER in excruciating pain."

"Ow." Steve squirmed.

"Yeah. Natasha saved my ass that day. It's why we're friends, probably. I've gotten her out of trouble a couple of times as well." 

"Well, I for one am glad she did. And I'm glad your dick is still functional." 

"Now I know what I'm worth to you," Bucky complained, but he squeezed Steve and kissed his temple.

"Oh, you're worth loads more than that," Steve told him. "I promise." 

"I'll take your word for it. Come on, let's go back inside before we get too cold."


End file.
